Psalm 23
by midnightcoward
Summary: A one shot set after Wannabe In the Weeds. After losing Booth, Brennan finds herself unable to let go. And after finding Booth...Brennan finds herself unable to let go. Rated M for sexual content.


She was so well hidden beneath the tangle of blankets, someone entering the room may not have even noticed she was there. The only thing visible of Temperance Brennan's slender body was a single blue eye, vividly illuminated by the afternoon sun that had so boldly slipped through her blinds.

The sounds of a muffled car horn made its way to her ear, and she was suddenly reminded that a whole city, thrumming with life, lay just beyond her line of vision, full of activity. It struck her as a blatant and unflinching insult that the world would dare to just continue on as though nothing had happened.

But then she quickly cleared her mind of this idea and thought of nothing; because to think of something was to think of him, and to think of him was simply too much to bear. And for someone with a mind as brilliant as Temperance Brennan's, to think of nothing was a task that required all of her enormous focus; which is why she continued to lay curled in the fetal position, watching the sun make its way across the wooden floorboards; and why she had been doing this very same thing for the past week.

At first it had been hard to think of nothing. At first the very sound of her own heartbeat caused her such exquisite pain she could hardly breathe, because she knew deep inside of her that it was another's heart that should be beating, and not her own. In these first few days of blinding pain, grief squeezed her heart like a cold, clammy fist, and the only sounds she could hear were the echoes of a gunshot, and her own voice, calling, begging for him to stay, to stay, to please oh god stay.

But he had not stayed. He had left her. And she hadn't felt such bitter heartache since she was fifteen years old. At the time she had vowed to never let anyone get so close that they could cause this pain in her again. And there she was, in a hospital chair in such extreme agony of soul she was doubled over in pain; eyes squeezed shut as tears plummeted from her chin to the floor. And there she was, a fool.

She could not remember how long ago any of this had occurred. Only that it had.

She could not remember when her friends had carried her wilted body home, or when she had last eaten. She didn't remember the fact that they had undressed her, that they had cleaned the blood from her skin, blood that flaked like rose petals as it spiraled down the drain. She didn't recall them leaving plates of food at her bedside, tsking when it lay uneaten upon their return. She had no recollection of them stroking her hair, crooning to her in voices like honey to eat, to sit up, to take a walk. Everything about the past few days was a black, hollow emptiness. Even now, she didn't know if the sound at the door was someone knocking, or the beat of her heart reminding her that she was still painfully, excruciatingly alive. But then the knocking continued and Temperance came to the conclusion that it was the former. She neither stirred nor took her eyes from the tendril of dust that slowly floated across the shaft of sunlight filtering through her blinds, only let the knocking continue until eventually it ceased.

Soon afterward the sound of keys in a lock could be heard, and then her front door opened. Footsteps echoed down the hall and through the many layers of blankets that she had wrapped protectively around herself, as though to shield her from the world and the pain that came with it. As the footsteps came closer, Temperance curled ever tighter, scrunching her eyes shut and willing whoever it was to leave her in her misery.

Instead, Angela whisked into the room, dark hair streaming behind her. With a look of determination clear upon her graceful features, she marched past the curled form of her best friend and threw open the blinds. Sunlight poured into the room, the heat of it, the life of it causing Temperance to retreat further into the recesses of her blankets.

"Brennan," Angela's soft voice perforated the layers of bedding. Deep in the cocoon Temperance opened her eyes, breathing softly, waiting. "Brennan," Angela repeated, "I have given you one week. One week of this. And that is all I will give you." Temperance heard her friend step closer to the bed, felt the weight of her on the mattress as she sat. "You can still be sad. But you're going to be sad in a healthy way. In the 'start-eating-and-talking-and-bathing-again' kind of way. You need to do all of those things," she paused. "I need you to do all of those things."

Temperance said nothing; she only braced herself, steeling her heart for what she knew was coming, the words that she knew were hovering in the air. "Brennan I think it would help if you went to the funeral." And there they were. She winced beneath the covers as the cold grief that she had kept at bay for so long now with her carefully empty mind, the grief that had been coiled in her belly waiting to spring, leapt forth with such a force she wasn't sure how she was still alive.

Angela saw her friend stiffen beneath the covers. She closed her eyes to gather herself, to find a way to explain to Temperance that this needed to be done if she was ever going to heal. "Brennan," she spoke gently, her dark eyes glinting with tears, "I know you're in pain. I know there are no words for what you are feeling. But I also know that if you don't do this; if you don't say goodbye to Booth, you will never recover." She took a breath to calm her wavering voice. She needed to be the strong one today. "And I know that that's not what he would have wanted. You're so strong Brennan, and he would be heartbroken if he believed he was the reason you lost your strength. He'd have wanted you to keep fighting for everything you both believe in. He'd have wanted you to keep being the woman he loved so much. He would have wanted you to come and say goodbye."

Temperance's breathing stilled. Loved?

Angela cautiously pulled back the covers to reveal her friend's curled back, and noted with an ache that she could see every one of her vertebrae through her tank top. Reaching into her purse she pulled out the invitation to Booth's celebration of life. It showed a picture of the handsome FBI agent in uniform, smiling warmly. She leaned over and placed the picture on the bed in front of her friend.

Temperance took it, saw the kind brown eyes looking up at her, and her vision swam; though she didn't cry. She hadn't cried at all since she'd first heard he was gone. She was beyond tears. She sighed, her frail body moving up and down, and placed the picture on the covers in front of her; needing to put some space between herself and the photo, and what it asked of her.

"Brennan," Angela whispered. "Please."

Temperance closed her eyes for a moment, deciding, and then with a voice so hollow she barely recognized it as her own, she spoke for the first time in seven days. "Okay, Ange."

Temperance emerged from the car and adjusted the hemline of her simple black dress. It was tasteful for the occasion, but it still hugged her curves in all the right places; though her curves had slightly diminished in recent days.

Her soft curls flew into her eyes as the gentle wind played with them, and she swept them out of the way and behind an ear. Heels sinking slightly in the grass, she made her way towards the small group of people that had already gathered, not noticing the pair of familiar brown eyes that followed her every movement.

Angela's slender fingers were wrapped tightly around her own, giving her the strength to put one foot in front of the other. Her blue eyes were set with pure determination, a determination to get through this day. And the next day. And the next.

The weather was so beautiful she was sure it was taunting her, showing her how indifferent the world was to her suffering, to the loss that left her chest feeling like a gaping hole. She steeled her jaw and trudged on. As she got closer to the grave site, and the first glimpse of lacquered mahogany came into view, the reality of what was happening surrounded her, took her breath away. She was saying goodbye to Booth. Forever. Angela, as though sensing this realization, whispered "You can do this," into Temperance's ear, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She fought for a moment to keep her composure, to stop her knees from buckling, and slow her fluttering heart. In the distance she could hear the gentle drone of a priest; the ceremony had begun. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. Her throat constricted, but she held on, walking closer, her fingers clenching Angela's in her own. He maketh me lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside quiet waters. They joined the crowd surrounding the casket. The top was closed and her chest burned thinking of Booth inside, alone in the darkness. He restores my soul. He guides me in the paths of righteousness. Would she recognize him, without the glow of kindness to spark his eyes? Without the warm smile gracing the face she had come to know so well? For his name's sake. And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death… Would he recognize her? With the dark circles under her eyes, and the look of defeat in her pale expression? I shall fear no evil. For you are with me.

Just as Temperance thought she might fall to the earth in grief, as every cell in her body was crying out to Booth's God to bring him back to her, movement and a shout brought her out of her trance; the priest's voice coming to a halt.

Two men had started to fight, one tall, a military man in a pristine white uniform. The other was wearing a dark suit, and presently he socked the man in white so hard his hat flew off, landing at her feet. Temperance glanced from the hat, and back to the scene playing before her in utter disbelief. Who could be so disrespectful? This was a funeral. And then her eyes locked on a face so familiar to her she would have known it anywhere, could have mapped it with her heart; and that's when everything stopped.

She couldn't breathe. A hush had settled over the crowd that stood agape, watching the brawl make its way around the casket, knocking the ring of flowers aside. It couldn't be possible. And yet…

White hot rage rocketed through her body, her eyes wide, her mouth open in disbelief. The brilliant mind that she had so carefully kept at bay had sprung into action, and within seconds she realized what had happened. Her blood surged .The two men collapsed at her feet, pummeling one another in a struggle for control. Temperance was shaking in fury, tears of anger threatening to spill. She could feel Angela's eyes on her as she stood, ashen, looking down at the very much alive form of Booth, fighting a stranger at his own funeral. Without another thought she reached down and sucker punched the stranger in the back of the head, watched him fall limp against Booth's heaving body. A woman screamed. Booth grunted in surprise and rolled the unconscious man off of him, the heavy body flopping to the ground with a sickening thump.

A lazy smile sprawled across his face as he looked up at his seething partner with gratitude, "thanks Bones!" He got to his feet, blissfully unaware that the only reason his partner had struck the other man was so that she could get to him. Her rage crackled around her like an electric storm, her eyes on fire, and just as Booth began to realize that something was not right with his partner, she stepped forward and socked him in the jaw as hard as her body would allow. A woman screamed again. Booth stumbled backwards, a hand on his jaw as he stared at Temperance, dumbstruck.

She said nothing because she did not know what to say, so instead she stalked across the well manicured lawn, stumbling over gravestones and uneven ground, nearly blind for the tears of anger and relief that threatened to wash down her cheeks. She could hear Booth chasing after her, calling her name, something she thought she would never hear again. But she was too angry to stop and demand an explanation, and so she launched herself into her car and pulled away, the image of him haunting her rearview mirror like a ghost.

She paced the floor of her living room ferociously, her thumbnail jammed in her mouth as she chewed it, deep in thought. Never before had she experienced this mix of emotion, her mind was a torment of pure elation and roiling fury. She'd never had a dream come true before, never experienced a miracle. Is this what it felt like? She found it hard to believe that anyone could be so angry afterwards.

How could he do this to me? Doesn't he trust me? Doesn't he care about me? Doesn't he lo-

A knock at her door tore her from her thoughts. Temperance froze. She knew who it was. Her mind rapidly weighed the pros and cons of letting him in. If she spoke to him, she would get to be near him, something she ached to do despite her anger. On the other hand, if she spoke to him, she wasn't sure if she could control her emotions; or her actions. Should she let him know how much he hurt her? Or play it cool, and nonchalant? Which would get her what she wanted? What did she want?

Booth. She had always wanted him. It had just taken him dying for her to realize this. Is that why he did it? She had a hard time believing he would do that to her just to teach her a lesson. He always patiently waited for her to figure things like that out on her own. Quickly she came to the realization that her desire to see his face far outweighed anything else she may have been feeling, and with a flutter in her chest she went to the door and opened it. Her heart skipped a beat at the image of him standing in her doorway, and she fought the urge to reach out to him, to reassure herself that this was real.

He was still in his white uniform, holding his hat solemnly across his chest, with such a look of apprehension on his face she almost laughed with pity. But then she reminded herself that she was angry with him, and with a cold shiver remembered what she had been put through. "Hello, Temperance," he spoke so softly it was nearly a whisper. "Can I come in?"

She said nothing, only walked away from him leaving the door open. He entered and closed the door after himself, locking it behind him. She went and stood by the living room window, afraid to look at him. She didn't know what was happening to her, she didn't know what she was feeling anymore.

He cautiously stepped closer to her, placing his hat on the counter. Her slender silhouette stood out in stark contrast to the setting sun that washed the room in its fiery orange glow. Temperance's body was rigid with tension, her thin arms hugging herself tightly in a defensive manner. Her head was bowed, looking down at the street below, the soft nape of her neck exposed as she chewed her lip in apprehension.

He yearned to be near her, to comfort her, but he was afraid of what her reaction might be. His gut churned at the realization that she may never forgive him, that she may even hate him for this betrayal of trust. After their time apart this wasn't the reunion he had been expecting.

Bravely, Booth closed the distance between them and reached out, placing his fingers on her neck. She didn't pull away, and he thought he saw her eyes close briefly at the contact.

The feel of his fingers on her skin was overwhelming, and Temperance's body thrummed with life. The fight to remain angry with him was becoming more difficult, but she remained strong for the moment. Using all of the willpower within her, she turned and looked at him. He didn't take his hand away when she moved, and his fingers trailed along her neck as she turned, coming to rest along the soft skin of her collarbone.

Her blue eyes were turned to him, searching for an explanation. Before she had a chance to voice the questions that were on her tongue, he spoke softly, every word in his gentle tones underlined with guilt and remorse. He explained to her what had happened, that he had only been trying to do the right thing; catch a bad guy.

While this explanation did quell the quiet rage that still churned in her belly, it didn't put it out completely.

"But why Booth?" she implored, her eyes still searching his. "Why didn't you tell me? Personally? Didn't I deserve such a courtesy?"

He slid the hand on her neck up to cup her chin, running his thumb along her cheek. She leaned her face into his touch, ever so slightly, her hair falling into her eyes. "Yes. You did deserve that. And you'll never know how sorry I am that I didn't. Because I am, Temperance, I am so sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Booth," she choked, determined, so determined, not to cry.

"I know, Bones," he whispered, looking into her eyes, the fingers on her neck tightening.

"No," she hissed, her voice cracking pathetically, "you don't know, Booth. _You don't know anything."_ Her chest was heaving and she could see the fear in his eyes as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She cursed herself inwardly for this weakness, and was suddenly determined to counteract it. To show him she was fine, that she didn't need him. She put both palms flat on his chest and pushed as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards, but only because she'd taken him by surprise, as she had earlier.

His eyes were pained with grief for her, with guilt. She closed the distance between them and punched him, hard, in the chest. "How could you, Booth?!" she demanded, her eyes streaming now. She was beyond caring. She hit him again, lower. He didn't even flinch, just took it like he thought he deserved it.

"How _could_ _you?"_ she sobbed, socking blows to him anywhere she could reach. "I trusted you not to hurt me, and then," she heaved, making eye contact with him, "and then you _killed_ me."

His mouth opened a little at this. She could tell he hadn't expected this, hadn't allowed himself to realize how much she cared for him, especially after her stoic face at the funeral. She went to land another blow on him, but finds she doesn't have the energy anymore. So she stands there like a fool in front of him, tears still streaming from her eyes.

"I died without you, Booth," she said finally, her chin jutting up defiantly.

A tear escaped from his eye, rolling down his face, and the anger within her was suddenly expunged. She had hurt him enough now. He understood. And that was all it took to make her come undone, not with anger this time, but with relief, and repressed grief.

She covered her face with her hands as she wept, the tears seeping between her knuckles and spilling onto the floor at their feet. He pulled her against him tightly, whispering words of comfort into her hair. She clung to him so desperately she was nearly embarrassed at the need she was exhibiting, but it felt so good to be pressed against him she couldn't bring herself to care.

He could feel her body shaking against his with each wracking sob, her short nails clutching at the back of his neck, her hot tears on his skin as she pressed her face into him. His own eyes pricked with tears again at her pain, knowing that if she had experienced even a tenth of the pain he would have felt if he thought he lost her, then she had been to hell and back. He continued to whisper to her, running his hands up and down her spine, feeling her shiver against him at his touch.

Her breathing slowed and she lifted her head from his shoulder, their eyes meeting. Tears clung to her eyelashes like diamonds. She would always be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He kissed her forehead. The feeling of his breath on her skin sent a wave of heat rushing through her body. She pulled away, unnerved at her body's reaction to him, and when she did he saw that her eyes had darkened. There was something different in them.

Her words had changed something between them. He could tell by the way she looked at him now, by the way the air between them crackled. Neither could deny the deep feelings they felt for one another, nor the intense physical attraction they shared. But with her confession, the careful walls she had built around herself had at last come crashing down. And Booth realized, so had his.

Her eyes seemed to glitter with this darkness, challenging him. But before he could accept the challenge, she had already locked her arms around his neck and clamped her hot mouth to his.

He reacted quickly, pulling her hips to his roughly enough to make her cry out. He slid his hands down the sides of her legs, digging his fingers deep into the flesh of her thighs. He began kneading the flesh of her ass in his strong hands, and she groaned and pressed into him harder. He pulled back, to say something, to see if this was really what she wanted, but as soon as their lips parted she shook her head, hooking her fingers around his collar and pulling him back to her. They kissed passionately, tongues sucking, teeth scraping.

The sun illuminated them as they stood in the middle of her living room, their kisses becoming deeper and more sexual with every second that ticked by. His other hand slid purposefully to her breast, squeezing the tight nipple he could feel right through the fabric, and she whimpered in his mouth as a bolt of desire shot through her veins.

Her hands were on his white jacket as he began kissing the side of her neck; her fingers racing down the line of uniform gold buttons, popping them one by one with her head thrown back, eyes shut. She bit her lip and moaned as he sucked on her ear lobe, and Booth was surprised he didn't come from the sound alone.

The last button popped, she pushed at his jacket, and he relinquished his hold on her for the fraction of a second needed for him to shrug it off. Their mouths met again, she pulled his bottom lip with her teeth and it was his turn to groan. His undershirt was next, her warm hands grazing the bare flesh as she pulled it off, eyes roaming with obvious satisfaction. Her hands slid over the planes of his body, and everywhere she touched, she kissed.

Both were panting heavily, overcome with desire, with an aching need to touch and explore and claim. Booth picked Temperance up and she gasped with surprise, wrapping her legs around him instinctively. He fought to remain standing as the fantasy of feeling her long legs cinched around his waist came true after so many nights of dreaming. He carried her easily through the room to the kitchen counter, setting her down and sucking on her neck, his tongue so hot she purred with content and Booth nearly lost himself again.

She undid his belt buckle and yanked, throwing the belt at their feet. Her hands went to his zipper, but he stopped her, his hands closing on her wrists. Her eyes flew to his, glittering with arousal, dangerous. "What?"

"Slow down, Bones," he panted, though his erection was becoming more painful with every passing moment.

"What for?" she panted, a crooked and oh-so-seductive half-smile stretching across her beautiful face. "We've waited long enough. We've paid our dues. At least I know I have," she stressed, unable to resist the jab.

Booth winced, "Ouch, Bones."

She merely smirked, leaning over to run her tongue along his jaw, and he suddenly forgot why he had stopped, as well as his own name, and anything else he might have known at one point in his life.

Their mouths came together in a heated clash, Temperance pushing his pants and shorts away, heat pooling in between her thighs at the feeling of him pressed against her. Her black dress had worked its way up her thighs, and she could feel him fumbling with the buttons that ran the length of her spine. She pulled back from him long enough to hiss, "Rip it. "

He paused, not quite believing that she had just fulfilled his first and second all-time fantasy in one evening. "What?"

She looked up at him, drunk with desire, and the look on her face of pure lust was the single sexiest thing Seeley Booth had ever seen. "I said, rip it, Agent Booth." The truth was she hated the dress, everything that it represented, everything it reminded her of. Loneliness, emptiness, aching pain, all of it was wrapped up in this one piece of clothing. And she needed it off.

Without asking twice, he put one hand on either side of the row of buttons, and yanked. She gasped, shocked as she felt the fabric tear down her back, exposing the smooth milky skin there. The buttons rained upon the floor, plinking on the tile, bouncing into the sink, rolling to a halt under the kitchen table. Her breasts were bare now, and Booth wasted no time in pushing the remaining fabric to her waist, allowing himself more access to appreciate their beauty. He put his mouth first on one, then the other, paying each an equal amount of respect and time.

Temperance whimpered with ecstasy, her hands cupping the back of his neck as he sucked on her. He pushed the hem of her torn dress further up her soft thighs, kneading the flesh there. Her groin was pulsating, aching for him to touch her, to show her just how alive they both were. Seeming to sense this, Booth hooked a finger around the material of her underwear and pulled it aside, streaking a thumb across her moist opening. She jumped, gasping, hooking her legs tighter around him. He continued to suck on her as he gently ran his finger up and down her folds. She squirmed beneath him, whimpering even more, the sound of his name on her lips causing him to go even harder, if that was possible.

"Booth, oh god," she gasped, rocking as his strong fingers brought her closer to the edge. "Oh, Booth, yes, Booth, I – I…"

He looked at her, watched the ecstasy flickering across her face, her eyes closed in pleasure. "Say it, Temperance," he commanded, his fingers moving faster now.

She screamed, and continued to stutter, her hands clawing at the back of his neck now as every cell in her body prepared for a beautiful release. "Booth, I…."

"Say it, Temperance." His eyes were locked on her face as he felt her muscles beginning to tighten around his fingers. Her eyes flew open, electric blue, and her mouth fell open in an "o". She finally made eye contact, and his breath was taken away at the emotions he saw there. Now only if she could say them out loud.

"Booth, I…" she whined, her eyes briefly rolling back in her head before she looked at him again. She saw the love in his eyes as he brought her closer to the edge, felt the need she had for him, overwhelming and unmistakable. "_I hate you_," she hissed, her thighs clamping down in his fingers as she rode the wave of her earth shattering orgasm.

She screamed, the fingers of her one hand clutched at the counter for purchase as the fingers of the other reached out to wrap firmly around his cock. He growled, then grabbed her by the shoulders and gently held her back. "I know, Temperance," he responded, his legs becoming weak at the fact that he could feel her wetness on his hands. "And we don't have to do this if you don't want to," he whispered.

She was still panting, her hairline already matted with a glittering sheen of sweat, and Booth fought not to lick it away as she responded. "Shut up, Booth," she snarled, yanking his head to hers and crushing her mouth to his.

He responded wholeheartedly, before he remembered he was trying to talk to her. Cursing how irrisistable she was, he pulled back and she groaned in annoyance. He looked at her solemnly. "I'm not going anywhere, Temperance," he said firmly, taking her head in his hands so she couldn't look away.

"Prove it," she demanded, squeezing the fingers that were firmly encircled around his cock. He gasped and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Fine," he growled, pulling her hand away from him and pushing her back until her head hit the cupboards, the door clunking shot. She whimpered in triumph as he paused at her entrance, looking up at her gorgeous face. Her eyes were closed, head back, mouth open in anticipation of him, and he thanked God for giving him that moment.

He wanted to be in her so badly, but he wanted to hear her beg him even more.

"Booth," she nearly whined, completely beyond sparing herself any sort of dignity. "Booth please, I need you," she opened her eyes, spreading her legs to him and he felt so heady with desire he was afraid he might pass out. He was going to hold out a little longer but she hooked her leg around him and forced him inside of her, her face becoming an incredible mixture of sly triumph and pure ecstasy.

The feeling of him inside of her was inexplicable. Her eyes rolled back in her head, a gutteral sound escaping her throat as every cell in her body seemed to scream him name. He just fit into her so perfectly; her vision was swimming as he slowly began to pull out. "Ohhhhh fuckfuckfuckfuck" the profanities poured from her beautiful red lips as he slowly thrust back into her, concentrating with all his might on taking it slow, relishing in how hot and wet she was.

He pulled out of her again, and then went back in, watching her face change, mouth open and close, eyelids flutter, and he decided that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. The sounds she was making were like nothing he had heard before, so erotic it made him even harder for her. "Booth," she moaned, grinding against him. He came up to meet her, and their joining seemed to last forever, a blissful and timeless state as they clung to each other, pulsated within each other, but then he could feel the pressure rising deep within him, and he started to move faster within her.

"Say my first name," he panted, "say it for me."

"No," she spat defiantly, determined to prove he had no control over her, when really they both new that their lives were so entwined they would never escape one another.

"Say it," he demanded, more insistent. "I need to hear you say it."

"Fuck you," she gasped, bringing her knee up so he sank even deeper into her. "Fuck. You," she repeated, tendrils of her hair stuck to the side of her head. She cried out, using the force of her strong legs to grind him into her, her hands flying up to grasp at the handles of the kitchen cupboards, her head knocking gently into the cupboard doors. Her hips left the counter to meet him with each thrust, and he had never felt anything like it in his life. The most base and primitive words were pouring from her, cursing him and the day he was born, and the day they met, and all the moments in between that made her feel so helpless.

Her panted and wild confessions wove through his head as he pushed into her, as he felt her short nails clutching at his back. In a second of pure ecstasy, he felt her tighten around him, her screams echoing through the kitchen, reverberating off of the refrigerator. Her face was exquisite as she shook heavily under him, her eyes flying open, so clear and beautiful, her skin glowing with a sheen of sweat.

"_Seeley", _she screamed. The sound of his name on her lips as she succumbed to the unstoppable force was what tipped him over the edge, sending him cascading along after her.

They remained joined together as they both slumped with exhaustion, her legs wrapped around him, one hand still clutching onto the metal handle of the cupboard. Her forehead rested on his as their panting slowed, the sweat causing her their stomachs to stick together. After a while she spoke to him, her words spilling out of her mouth and sliding down the front of his chest. "I don't really hate you."

"I know," he whispered back.

She pulled away from him, looking up at him with her cobalt eyes. "So that's what it's like," she whispered.

He pushed the strands of hair stuck to her face out of the way lovingly as he asked, "What?"

"Making love."


End file.
